


Whiskey

by honeydewdrop



Category: Compilation of Final Fantasy VII, Final Fantasy VII Remake (Video Game 2020)
Genre: Caretaking, F/M, Kidnapping, Kissing, Lust
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-02-14
Updated: 2021-02-25
Packaged: 2021-03-16 01:34:29
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,078
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29445633
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/honeydewdrop/pseuds/honeydewdrop
Summary: A mysterious and gorgeous silver haired man comes into your restaurant every week and orders a slice of bread and a single glass of whiskey. You always feel his cold gaze on you, watching your every move.
Relationships: Sephiroth (Compilation of FFVII)/Reader, Sephiroth/Reader
Comments: 39
Kudos: 57





	1. Chapter 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (this is a gift for a dear friend of mine. thank you to my friends [carnivoreteeth](https://archiveofourown.org/users/carnivoreghost), H, and M for letting me bounce ideas off of them, as i have never played any final fantasy game. i had to do a lot of research and i also appreciate everyone who patiently explained sephiroth and the plot of the game to me.)

She’s perfect. From her hair that looks soft to the touch, to her eyes that shine brighter than the finest jewels, to her smile that could melt even the coldest of hearts, she’s perfect. And somehow...human?

Sephiroth took a sip of amber liquor, the liquid fire spreading through his throat and chest. He recalled the first time he came into the restaurant, a day when the pressure of his destiny felt too heavy. 

He had tied back his silver hair and wandered the streets of the city, getting lost in the pointless noise of humans. Most of the time their constant buzzing filled him with disgust but that day he had needed to drown out his thoughts. 

The scent of freshly baked bread had drawn his attention to the restaurant. While eating and drinking wasn’t necessary for him, he was not immune to the comforting and delicious scent. 

Opening the door to the establishment, Sephiroth found comfort in the soft lighting and colors. The restaurant was quieter than outside, as it was mid afternoon after lunch but before dinner. It was nearly empty inside, save for a group of men posturing over a stack of papers, obviously in a meeting over business. 

“Can I help you?” a friendly voice had said from Sephiroth’s left. 

He turned towards the voice and that was when he had seen her for the first time. Smiling at him from behind the bar, she had been polishing a highball glass, her hands expertly rubbing the cloth over the glass in a way that drew Sephiroth’s eye. 

His gaze had slid up from her hands, briefly settling on the soft swell of her chest, then lingering on her lips before finally settling in her eyes. The bright light in her eyes was beautiful, almost knocking the breath from Sephiroth’s powerful chest. 

“Whiskey,” he had grunted, approaching the bar and sitting at a stool. “And a slice of bread.” 

“Just a slice of bread?” she had asked. “We are known for our sandwiches…”

“Just bread,” he cut her off. “Plain, please.” 

“Right,” she had nodded, pouring him a glass of whiskey before heading towards the kitchen. 

-  
-  
-

The man with the silver hair has come once a week, every week since the day he sauntered into your restaurant demanding whiskey and bread. 

Coming in the middle of the afternoon, he always orders a plain slice of bread and a single glass of whiskey. Over the course of the afternoon until the first customers arrive for dinner, he nurses both the bread and the whiskey. He never speaks other than the polite words needed to place his order and pay. 

But you always feel his eyes on you. Watching as you polish glasses, give pep talks to the servers, and generally prepare for the dinner rush. His cold gaze following your every move, giving you shivers down your spine. 

He’s gorgeous, with light green eyes, shimmering silver hair, and sharp features. But it isn’t just his beauty that gets your heart racing, it’s his power. It radiates off him and commands the room, almost suffocating you. 

You think of him now as you lock the door behind the last of your staff after close of business for the night. You sigh and head to the register, hoping the task of counting cash will get your mind off him. 

Losing yourself in balancing the numbers, you nearly shriek when you hear the tingle of the bell that hangs above the front door of your restaurant. You freeze as the implications of this sound hits you. Someone else is in the restaurant.

You were positive you had locked the door. You quickly snatched the pepper spray you kept behind the register before turning towards whoever dared to enter. 

The silver haired man stands before you. His green eyes glinted in the darkness. His gaze, normally cold, is now burning with a heat that makes you want to squirm. But you stand your ground. 

“What are you doing here?” you demand, keeping your voice steady. 

“I can no longer resist,” he says, stepping towards you, closing the gap between you. 

“What do you mean?” you ask, raising the pepper spray, ready to use it if he gets too much closer. 

“You’re quite cute,” he says with a smirk before dashing towards you, too fast for your eyes to follow. 

He appears before you, face mere inches from yours, a cunning smile on his face. Quickly snatching the wrist of the hand that holds the pepper spray, he twists, forcing you to drop your weapon. 

You feel your feet swept up from underneath you and before you realize what is happening, you are in his arms, being held close to his body like a bride on her wedding night. The sound of a large wing flapping roars in your ears. 

He dashes towards the front door and you close your eyes, fearing the impact. You hear glass shattering as he crashes through the door. You open your eyes in shock when instead of feeling the sharp cuts of glass, you feel the wind on your face. 

You’re soaring through the sky, the lights of the bustling city far beneath you. You hold back a scream and cling to the silver haired man. You feel his arm flex and he pins you closer to his hard body. 

The steady flap of feathers soothes you and your labored breathing eventually slows, the fear of being so high in the sky dissipating. You look up and see a mass of black feathers above you and you realize the silver haired man has a large, dark, wing. 

You dare to look at his face. His gaze is intense and aimed towards the horizon. A small smile upturns his lips and you know he can feel your eyes on him. 

Blushing, you avert your eyes and look to your hands which are gripped around the harness that adorns the man’s chest. If you weren’t soaring through the air, you would have dropped your hands but your fear of falling prevents you from letting go. 

Your eyes dance over his chest, taking in the powerful and defined muscles. 

You close your eyes and shake your head, reminding yourself that he’s kidnapped you. He broke into your restaurant and has left behind hundreds, if not thousands of dollars worth of damage. You shouldn’t be looking at him with such lustful eyes. 

With a flap of his wings, the silver haired man passes over the edge of the city limits and begins to descend. You look to the horizon and see the shadowy outline of a building. As you get closer in your descent, the building reminds you of an old manor. 

He gently lands on a balcony with a flap of his wing. Still holding you tight to his chest, he pushes open a set of large glass French doors to reveal an ornately decorated room with a large bed. 

Now that you are on solid ground you begin to squirm in his arms and beat against his chest. 

“Put me down!” you snarl. “Let me go!” 

He chuckles as he enters the room, digging his fingers into the soft flesh of your thighs. 

“If you insist,” he says before gently placing you onto the bed. 

You sit up and make a move to strike him, hoping to throw him off so you can make a dash for the door and escape. 

He grabs your hand before you can make contact with his face, a sly grin on his face. 

“I wouldn’t try anything if I were you,” he says with stoic confidence. “The door to this room is bolted from the outside, the balcony is too high up for you to safely jump, and you’re too weak and slow to do me any harm.” 

You make a darting motion in an attempt to run past him, disregarding his warning, not willing to give up. He easily catches you around the waist. 

“You’ll never leave this place without my assistance,” he says, pushing you back onto the bed. 

“Why have you done this?” you ask, swallowing a lump in your throat to keep your voice steady. 

“I’ve been watching you,” he says, his voice low and husky. “You are just a lowly human, and yet...I cannot take my eyes off you.” He leans in, bringing his lips close to yours. You can feel his breath tickle your cheek. 

Your heart pounds and races in your chest and your breath hitches. Even though he’s kidnapped you, his gaze is still unbelievably intoxicating, causing you to tremble. 

“Ah! So delicate,” he says, bringing a hand to your cheek. “I love the way you tremble before me.” 

You take in a sharp breath and steel yourself, not wishing to show weakness. You narrow your eyes in a glare, overcome with the urge to fight him. 

“You have such spirit,” he purrs, tracing his thumb over your lips. “It’s one of the first things I observed about you.” 

Taking his thumb between your teeth, you bite down. He chuckles and doesn’t remove his thumb from your mouth. 

“Such a spitfire,” he smirks. “But you’re still just a human. I could crush you, if I so wish.” He steps back, his stature towering above you, emanating a powerful air. 

“What do you want with me?” you demand.

“I want you to be mine. A human so perfect cannot be anything but mine.” 

“I do not belong to anyone but myself!” you insist. 

He chuckles and turns away from you, heading towards a large wooden wardrobe. He opens the door and rifles through the fabric inside. From your position on the bed, you can see various articles of clothing. 

“I have curated plenty of garments that are suitable for you to wear,” he says before pulling out a white gown. “You are to wear this tonight.”

He walks over to you and places the article of clothing before you. You can now see that it’s a delicate nightgown made of silk and lace. You run your fingers over the fabric, observing how soft and fine it feels. This was not a cheap garment. 

“And as for tomorrow,” he says, reaching back into the wardrobe. “You shall wear this.”

Unceremoniously, he pulls out a dress and brings it to you. You gasp and take the dress in your hands. Pale pink with a ruffled hem, perfectly embroidered strawberries adorn the fabric. 

“Do you like it?” he asks. 

“I…” you stammer, at a loss for words. The dress is beautiful. 

“You don’t have to answer. I know you do,” he says cockily. 

You huff. “I’m not wearing these.” 

“You will,” he says with a growl.

You look up at him, the glint in his eyes sending a shiver of fear down your spine. 

“Yes,” you nod, backing down for now. 

“You shall call me by my name...Sephiroth,” he demands. 

“Sephiroth,” you say slowly, frustrated by how much you love the way his name sounds on your lips. 

His eyes flash, lust clouding his gaze. He slowly closes the gap between you two and leans in yet again. 

“Say it again,” he says, taking your chin in his hand. 

“Say what,” you whisper, the lustful look shimmering in eyes making your entire body tingle deliciously. 

“My name.” 

“Sephiroth,” you say softly. 

His lips are on yours, soft and warm. Your heart leaps in your chest, urging you to reciprocate. You close your eyes and sigh into his kiss, opening your mouth in consent. His tongue gently searches for yours, exploring your mouth.

You hungrily respond, silently begging for more from him. Your hands find his chest and you slide your fingers under the straps of his harness, caressing the hardness of his muscles. 

When you gently nip his bottom lip, he chuckles, rumbling against your mouth. 

“I knew you wanted me,” Sephiroth says, pulling his mouth away from yours. 

You blush, feeling embarrassed that you let yourself get lost in his kiss. 

“There will be plenty of time for that, my dear,” he says, running his fingers through your hair. “You have had a long day. You must be tired.” 

You yawn, realizing that you are indeed exhausted. On top of being kidnapped, soaring through the sky, and being taken over by lust...you also had a busy night at the restaurant. 

“That’s what I thought,” he says with a scoff. “You humans are so delicate.” He turns away from you and walks onto the balcony. 

Sephiroth looks over his shoulder at you, his long silver hair shimmering in the moonlight. He looked so beautiful...and dangerous. You know you are going to have to tread carefully as his prisoner. 

“I will see you tomorrow morning. Again, I wouldn’t try escaping. You won’t get far,” he says before spreading his wing with a loud flap. He walks to the edge of the balcony and leaps off before soaring into the night sky, leaving you alone.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (how do you think i did handling sephiroth’s characterization? what do you think his plans are for the strawberry dress? any and all feedback seriously makes my day! also! HAPPY VALENTINE’S DAY!!)


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You struggle with your conflicting emotions. You resent Sephiroth for taking you but on the other hand, you enjoy the fact that he obviously wants you as much as you want him. Why did he have to kidnap you? Why couldn't he have asked you on a date like a normal man? But he wasn't a normal man. Normal men don't radiate power like he does. And that power was part of his appeal.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (here is the second chapter of the gift fic i am writing for a dear friend of mine. thank you once again to [carnivoreteeth](https://archiveofourown.org/users/carnivoreghost) for letting me bounce ideas of him since he knows much more about sephiroth and final fantasy than i do. i hope you enjoy this next chapter. my friend who is the recipient of this gift said "i feel like i'm reading a dream" in response to this last chapter).

The sounds of birds singing their morning song cause you to stir. You groggily open your eyes to the early morning sun streaming through the glass of the french doors. In the fog of waking up, you forget where you are and how you got there. 

Why is your bed softer? Why do your sheets feel as if they are made of a fine silk? Why are your pillows more plush? 

You sit up in bed, startled as your memories of the previous night come rushing back to you. The shock of the silver haired man breaking into your restaurant, the fear of soaring through the night sky, the anger of being held captive…but other memories swirl inside your mind as well. The safety of his strong arms, the feel of his broad chest beneath your fingertips, the taste of his lips…

Feeling flustered, your cheeks burn. You oscillate between anger and embarrassment, your mind racing with confusing thoughts about the silver haired man. _Sephiroth_. You flush remembering his name and how good it felt on your lips. 

The sound of low grumbling accompanied with a twist in your stomach cut through your thoughts. Hunger pains. You hadn’t eaten since before yesterday’s dinner rush. 

As if on cue, the door to the room opens and the smell of bacon, freshly baked bread, and warm butter wafts into the room making your stomach growl louder. 

Sephiroth strides through the doorway carrying a silver tray in his hands. 

“I see you are awake. I figured you might be hungry,” he says, placing the tray on a table in the corner of the room. 

Your breath catches as sunlight sparkles off his silver hair. In the morning light you can clearly see his sharp features, the pink of his lips, and the shimmer of his green eyes. His beauty is striking, calling to mind the dangerous elegance of a predator. 

“Once you finish eating, put on the dress I laid out for you last night and wait for me. I expect you to be ready in an hour,” he declares. 

The demand in his tone slams you out of your silent marvel at his beauty. Your admiration is instantly replaced with frustrated anger. 

“Or you could let me go,” you snap. “What makes you think you have a right to tell me what to do?” 

He snaps his eyes to yours and crosses the room in a few heavy strides. He snatches the front of your nightgown and pulls your face close to his in a scowl. 

“I have _every_ right to demand _whatever_ I want from you,” he seethes. 

The anger and entitlement in his eyes burns into you but you don’t dare look away. You paint a determined frown on your face. 

“Fuck you,” you snarl. 

The look in his cat-like eyes shifts from anger to something that reminds you of amusement. Maybe even admiration? 

“There’s that fire again,” he purrs. 

You melt at the shift in his tone of voice, remembering the kiss you shared last night. 

Sephiroth releases his hold on your gown with a chuckle. 

“I expect you to be ready in an hour,” he states once again before turning on his heel to leave the room. 

The door slams behind him and you hear the sound of a lock turning. 

You grab a pillow and scream into it. You scream in anger. You scream in frustration. You scream in fear. You scream in embarrassment. He has _kidnapped_ you, yet your heart flutters in his presence like some school girl around her first crush. 

You glance at the tray of food from across the room. You won’t eat it. Eating it would be accepting your confinement. You turn to glare at the gorgeous dress he laid out for you last night. You won’t put it on. Even though the strawberries are perfectly embroidered and you know the fabric would swish beautifully when you walk. 

As if offering a counter argument, your stomach grumbles again.

You climb out of the large bed walk towards the table. As your approach you can see the tray is laden with crispy bacon, bread smothered in butter, an assortment of fresh fruit, and a steaming carafe of coffee. Your mouth begins to water.

Well, you _do_ need your energy if you are to escape. You take a deep breath and reason with yourself. As much as you would love to starve yourself out of spite, you know you need to eat if you are to survive this. 

Picking up the slice of bread, you admire the color, noting the golden brown of the crust. You take a bite and let out a contented sigh. The flavor of the bread is delicious and the butter is rich. You take another bite. The flavor is quite delightful but you notice the texture is dense and if it wasn’t for the butter, it would be a little dry. You feel a small tingle of pride. The bread you bake everyday for your restaurant is better. 

Tears well in your eyes as you think of your restaurant. You wonder what your staff thought when they saw the destruction left behind from when he took you. Did they call the police? Have you been reported missing? 

You focus on eating your breakfast, doing your best to push these questions out of your mind. There is nothing you can currently do about them. Instead, you contemplate the strawberry dress. 

By the time you take your last sip of coffee, you decide to wear the dress. Much like eating breakfast, you decide putting on the dress will put you in the best position to survive. Going along with your kidnapper’s desires would be your best course of action. 

It also didn’t hurt that you are absolutely sure you would be totally cute in the dress. 

The dress fits you perfectly, almost as if it was made just for you. You look at yourself in the mirror and giggle as you twirl. You were right. You do look totally cute in the dress.

A sharp knock on the door brings you out of your giddiness, reminding you of your circumstances. 

“Are you ready?” Sephiroth asks, stepping into the room. 

“Yes,” you respond, lips pursed tight. 

“You look quite lovely,” Sephiroth says, his eyes sliding over your dress. 

You feel the heat rise in your cheeks and you fight the urge to look away but you don’t want to show him any weakness. You glare at him until he finally meets your gaze. A knowing smile forms on his lips. 

“Are you going to say ‘thank you’?” he asks.

“No,” you bite back. 

Sephiroth chuckles, obviously amused by your defiance. 

“Will you come with me quietly or will I have to drag you out of this room?” 

“This dress is too cute to be ruined by getting dragged. I will come with you. But know it’s because of the dress and not because of you,” you retorted. 

Sephiroth offers an understanding nod in response and holds open the door, gesturing for you to exit to the room. 

“Follow me,” he says, stepping past you once you’ve exited the room. The door slams loudly behind you, echoing off the walls of the hallway. 

You follow Sephiroth through the halls of the manor, noting how cold and empty it felt. It is immaculately clean with modern yet minimalist furniture, giving the place a sterile feel. The room you were held captive had much more personality with its ornate wooden furniture and silken sheets. 

When Sephiroth leads you to a space that feels like a foyer with a large wooden door, you realize he is taking you outside. Your heart begins to race. This may be your chance to escape. Maybe you could give him a swift kick in his crotch before making a run for it. 

“I just want to make you aware that I am not only much stronger than you, but also faster. It would be wise to not attempt escape,” he says. 

You clench your jaw, annoyed that he seems to have read your mind. No matter. You would still keep your eyes open for a chance to escape. 

When you step outside the manor and look around, your breath is taken away. In the darkness last night as you were soaring above the manor, you couldn’t see them but in daylight you can now see that the grounds are covered in beautiful gardens. 

A variety of flowers create splashes of color throughout the gardens. The soft and inviting fragrance of the blooms envelop you. You reach out and graze your fingers over the velvety petals of a pink peony. 

“Beautiful, aren’t they?” Sephiroth says softly. 

“Yes,” you whisper. 

“I knew you would appreciate them,” the usual coldness in his voice has been replaced with warmth. 

“Did you plant these?” you ask incredulously. 

“Yes. Tending to my gardens brings me solace and peace.” 

“I don’t think I’ve ever seen flowers so colorful or that smell so lovely!” you exclaim. 

“It’s amazing how much flowers can flourish when they aren’t tainted by human hands,” he says, his voice growing cold once again. 

Before you can respond, he begins to walk into the garden, leaving you on the front porch.

“Are you coming?” he asks, looking over his shoulder at you. 

You nod and follow him. 

He walks you through the winding stone path of the gardens. You pass not only flowers but thriving succulents, blossoming trees, and ornate bushes. Birds and rabbits mill about lazily and barely spare you a passing glance as you walk by. You notice that they don’t flee in your presence. 

“Here we are,” Sephiroth stops and motions to the garden before him.

A garden of the most beautiful yellow roses bushes you’ve ever seen surrounds a small clearing revealing a blush pink blanket atop a patch of plush grass. A large wicker basket, an easel with a blank white canvas, and a leather tote bag are laid out on the grass next to the blanket. 

“Sit,” Sephiroth says, gesturing towards the blanket. 

You kneel on the blanket and watch as Sephiroth unpacks the leather tote to reveal various paints and brushes. He then sets up the easel and begins to dollop paint onto a wooden pallet.

“Wait!” you exclaim. 

Sephiroth stops his tasks and looks at you, his gaze cold. 

“What are you doing?”

“I am going to paint you.” 

“But...why?” Once you ask this, all of the questions you’ve been wondering begin to pour out of you. “Why am I here? Why did you take me? Why am I in this dress? What do you want from me? You didn’t really explain it last night and I demand answers!”

Sephiroth sighs. “Humans are disgusting and vile. I can barely stand to be near them. Yet, when I look at you, I do not feel that way. I have been watching you. I have deemed you to be perfect. Your beauty, your drive, your confidence, and that fire that burns within you. I have also noticed how natural of a leader you are to your team back at your restaurant. You inspire them. And I admire that about you.” 

You feel the blush creep up your neck and onto your cheeks. He admires you? He thinks you're perfect? 

“I took you because you should rightfully be mine,” he further explains. “My destiny is to rule this world and therefore, I deserve to own all that is perfect within it, including you.” 

The heat in your cheeks deepens and your vision grows red in anger.

“Own?” you snarl. “No one owns me. No one has a right to own me!” 

Sephiroth locks eyes with you, his gaze feels dangerous. He approaches you and kneels down onto the blanket, once again bringing his face is close to yours. He slips a finger under the neckline of your dress, the soft leather of his glove against the sensitive skin along your collarbone causes your heart to quicken. 

Still keeping his eyes locked onto yours, he glides his finger down the front of the dress and over the swell of your breasts. You shiver under his touch. 

“My dear,” he purrs. “Soon, you’ll want nothing more than to be mine.” 

Your heart pounds in your chest but you lean forward, your lips lightly grazing his. You hear him suck in a sharp breath. Finger still hooked in the neckline of your dress, he pulls you into him, your body pressing into his. 

His lips collide with yours. Your stomach twists with excitement as his mouth opens. Your heart races with the sensation of your breasts crushing against his hardened chest, the gentle demands of his tongue, and the rich scent of leather. You hear a low growl from deep in his throat before Sephiroth is laying back and he’s pulling you with him. 

Mouth still on yours, he pushes up the hem of your dress, making it easier for you to straddle him, to melt into him, to press your heat against him. You shiver as he slides his hands up your bare legs and digs his fingers into the soft flesh of your thighs. 

You chuckle and pull your lips from the searing and delightful heat of his mouth. 

“Or maybe,” you say slyly. “ _You_ will be the one who wants nothing more than to be _mine_.” 

Sephiroth's green eyes glimmer with amusement. 

“We shall see,” he says, gently rolling you off him. 

“But what does all of that have to do with the paints?” you ask, returning to the topic at hand despite your racing heart, the heat still stirring in your stomach. 

“I enjoy painting my flowers. I wanted to see if I get the same enjoyment painting you.” 

He stands up and looks at you kneeling on the blanket. His cold gaze is calculating. 

Sephiroth begins to direct you, adjusting your position so you’re sitting at a slight angle towards the easel, legs folded together to one side, hands resting neatly in your lap. It’s the perfect position to capture both your face and the details of your dress. 

He begins to paint. The task looks natural to him, each stroke flowing easily with no hesitation. His eyes shift from you to the canvas, eyes glimmering in concentration. You do your best to sit still. 

“Are you hungry?” 

Sephiroth’s question cuts through the quiet. You startle, eyes wide and blinking. Your mind had wandered to thoughts of your restaurant and you had forgotten where you were.

As if on cue, your stomach growls. You hadn’t noticed you were hungry but now that he mentions it, you feel quite peckish. 

Sephiroth grabs the wicker basket and begins to unpack it. Bread, cheese, fresh fruit, and a bottle of wine are laid out on the blanket. 

“Eat,” he says as he pours you a glass of wine. 

You take a bite of bread and note that it’s the same as the bread you ate for breakfast. 

“Sephiroth?” 

“Yes?” 

“Did you bake this bread?” 

“I did. And I know, it’s not as good as yours.” 

“Well, I’m not going to disagree with you.” 

“Your bread is the most delicious food I’ve ever tasted.” 

“I can always bake us some,” you offer. “Not that your bread is terrible or anything but mine does have a better texture.” 

“I agree,” he nods. “I will accept your offer.” 

You smile to yourself, looking forward to an opportunity to get back into the kitchen. 

You finish your lunch in silence. It isn’t until you pop the last grape in your mouth that you realize it was a comfortable silence. You feel alarmed and confused that you could feel at ease around the obviously dangerous man who kidnapped you. 

You blush remembering that not only have you felt at ease around him, but you’ve also felt desire for him. 

Sephiroth continues to paint while you get lost in your own conflicting thoughts and emotions. You resent him for taking you but you enjoy the fact that he obviously wants you as much as you want him. Why did he have to kidnap you? Why couldn’t he have just asked you out on a date like a normal man?

But he wasn’t a normal man. Normal men don’t radiate power like he does. And that power is part of his appeal. 

“Done,” Sephiroth says quietly, putting down his brush. 

You let out a sigh of relief and stretch, happy you can finally stand up. 

“Can I see?” you ask.

He silently turns the easel towards you. 

You gasp. The painting is stunning. He’s captured the gorgeous color and life of the yellow roses and you feel the urge to reach out and touch them but you don’t because you know the paint is still drying. You marvel at the detail in the dress, each strawberry perfectly painted. 

You take in his depiction of you. Your hair looks soft to the touch, your eyes sparkle, and the look on your face is inviting and warm. You look so alive, like at any moment you could get up and walk out of the painting. You’re beautiful. 

“Wow. I knew I looked cute in this dress but you’ve made me look lIke some kind of model,” you giggle. 

“I simply painted what I saw,” he says. 

Your heart skips a beat and you silently curse yourself.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (thank you so much for reading this chapter! it seriously makes me so happy! how are we feeling about inner conflict of the reader? i would imagine it is hard to have been kidnapped by someone as sexy as sephiroth. let me know your thoughts! i love interacting with people who have read this fic).


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